


blink back to let me know (it was always you)

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Insatiable (TV 2018)
Genre: Basically some headcanons of mine, Canon Compliant, Childhood, Fluff, Friends (to Enemies) to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Pre-Series, post Season 1 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 17:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17187599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Frankly, Bob is more than a little embarrassed that he never saw that kiss in the bathroom (and everything that followed) coming. Not from a mile away and not when it was right in front of his nose.





	blink back to let me know (it was always you)

**Author's Note:**

> well i watched the series and then recently got 3 of my friends to watch it and then this happened. just some fluff and some reflection, on bob's part. 
> 
> thanks to hannah for beta'ing!
> 
> enjoy!

There’s moments that, when Bob looks back, make it all seem so _obvious_. Little things over dozens of years, all of which culminate in a bright neon glowing sign that reads **_‘BOB “BROAD SHOULDERS” BARNARD HAS ALWAYS LOVED YOU.’_ **

Frankly, Bob is more than a little embarrassed that he never saw that kiss in the bathroom (and everything that followed) coming. Not from a mile away and not when it was right in front of his nose.

 

 

There’s the time when they’re seven and they’re sitting in the Barnard front yard. The grass is overly long but soft on their knobby knees as they kneel in it. They’re combing around for dandelions and daffodils and four-leaf clovers.

Bob sits up, a perfectly crisp dandelion resting in the palm of his hand, and turns to show Barnard—then just known as Bobby—only to find his best friend already staring at him. Barnard grins, a toothy thing because he just lost his last baby tooth, one right up front. Then he leans in and tucks something behind Bob’s ear. A quick and gentle hand to his ear confirms for Bob that it’s a little bundle of dandelions.

“Why?” Bob asks. When he goes back to this memory, he thinks maybe his voice was barely above a whisper.

“Cuz they’re pretty,” Barnard replies swiftly. He grins wider and then holds up his other hand, where a cluster of four-leaf clovers sits. “And these are cuz I’m the luckiest boy in the world to have a friend like you.”

 

 

There’s the time when they’re ten, and Bob gets his first sequined tie. It’s a deep, luscious purple that glimmers magenta in the right light and he absolutely loves it. He’s off like a shot the minute his dad throws the car into park, racing down the street to the Barnard’s residence where his best friend is already waiting. Barnard shoots to his feet and makes a ‘gimme gimme’ gesture, and Bob presents his tie proudly.

“S’real pretty, Bob,” Barnard says. “You gonna wear it for school pictures?”

“And Sunday service,” Bob replies eagerly. “Momma said she’s gonna show me how to tie it!”

Barnard gets that determined look on his face, one that Bob can spot at a distance even twenty years down the line. He takes the tie from Bob’s hands and loops it around his neck; Bob isn’t wearing a collared shirt, so it looks silly enough to begin with, but Barnard’s staring at him intently and Bob can’t look away.

Minutes later, Barnard takes a step back and doesn’t look quite as triumphant as Bob expected.

“Your ma can probably fix it.”

Bob finally looks down and snorts a laugh. His tie isn’t quite tangled, and it’s certainly tied but it looks nothing like the crisp ties he usually ends up wearing, or the ones he sees his dad wear.

“Thanks for trying,” Bob says, and hugs Barnard.

 

 

One night that stands out stronger than the rest: Abby Temple’s thirteenth birthday, just before everything fell apart. Hell, looking back? Maybe this night is the whole damn reason things went to pieces.

Cuz Abby’s party is _co-ed_. Scandalous, back then. It had taken days of pestering for Bob’s parents to even agree to him going. Now that he’s here, he’s overwhelmed, too much of a wallflower to do anything more than cling to Barnard’s side. Boys and girls are mingling while drinking sugar-free punch and waiting impatiently until the parents inevitably go downstairs for a drink and leave the gaggle of kids to their own devices.

The moment comes an hour and a half into the party. Almost wordlessly, all the kids gather into a circle and Abby produces a bottle and grins, all teeth. She looks pretty and predatory in equal measure.

Round and round and round it goes, turn after turn and people kissing each other, some people chickening out, some confessing deep secrets. It’s nothing that Bob’s ever been privy to before, his only friend being Barnard. He’s never been to a co-ed sleepover like this, and the sheer drama is dizzying. And addictive, even now. His pulse keeps spiking when the bottle spins endlessly, its long neck pointing at Bob for seconds at a time before continuing its twirl.

Bob gets a chance to go, and his voice shakes when he says, “Truth.” Looking back on this memory, Bob doesn’t even remember what Abby asked him, because Barnard ended up going a few turns later.

“Truth,” Barnard says with all the easy grace of a kid who’s going places. Some of the girls, Bob notes, look put-out.

“Do you,” Marie-Lynn drawls, “Bobby Barnard, have a crush on someone in this room?”

A hush falls. Bob catches Barnard’s eyes for no other reason than they’re best friends, and Barnard’s never mentioned a crush. If he mentions one right now, Bob is man enough to admit it’ll sting a bit; what’re friends for if not telling each other about stuff like crushes and all that?

“Can I change my pick?” Barnard asks. He swallows and finally looks away from Bob. “I’d rather do a dare.”

Marie-Lynn squeals with delight. “I dare you to kiss Abby!” Her response is immediate. A chorus of laughter and groans comes up from the circle of kids.

But Bob is still as ice as he watches his best friend lean across the oblong circle to kiss the birthday girl. It’s a sweet and simple kiss, quick and over with only a breathy sigh on Abby’s part.

Barnard looks mighty uncomfortable by the time he’s back in his spot, but Bob never gets the chance to ask why.

 

 

There’s a million other moments: during high school, after college, in the past two years with all the pageant drama. And somehow, through it all, Bob Armstrong stayed none the wiser. Maybe it was deliberate: can’t deal with what you can’t see, or something like that. Maybe it was just simple obliviousness. Bob isn’t quite sure and doesn’t know that it even matters anymore.

He lets himself into the Barnard home. Immediately there’s the clink of a glass hitting marble countertop and Barnard meets him in the hallway.

“What happened?” Barnard asks, slowing his pace as he approaches. He still ends up toe-to-toe with Bob, but his hands are hesitant where they roam over Bob’s face and shoulders. “Is that—?”

_Blood, yes. Not mine._ Bob’s thoughts are simultaneously running a mile a minute and slow as molasses going downhill in winter. He blinks sluggishly before replying.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’ll tell you everything in the morning.”

Barnard hesitates. “Okay. Is this... is this you givin’ me an answer?” His fingers clench on Bob’s shoulders, and the taller man practically radiates _hope_.

Bob sighs. He tilts forward and sighs again when Barnard wraps him up in a hug tight enough to hurt. Bob wraps his arms around Barnard in return and buries his face against the man’s neck.

“Yes. My answer is yes.”


End file.
